#AmericanWriters
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
ALL those treasures that lie in t… Mightier than the room of the star… All those treasures—I hold them i… Against the sides and the lid and… Crying that there is no sun come a…
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken
NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among